


Just Happy Accidents

by Pelydryn



Series: All the FLUFF! [10]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Archimedes - Freeform, Familiars, Fluff, Hapless Merlin, Humor, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Meet-Cute, Merlin Writers' & Artists' Telephone Game, Modern Royalty, Morgana ships it, SO MUCH FLUFF, Soulmates, art included, bob ross knows, just happy accidents, there are no mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 03:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15306204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pelydryn/pseuds/Pelydryn
Summary: The grimoire said it was a spell to summon love into his life. Merlin had never expected it to work quite so literally. Hecertainlyhadn't expected the blond-haired, Greek god wannabe dripping soapy water all over his workshop floor.Art byEisbaerfusselincluded.





	Just Happy Accidents

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Footloose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Footloose/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Get Sick Soon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941164) by [Polomonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey). 



> Thank you to my cheerleaders enki, plu, and moon. You're the best!
> 
> For LM, who makes me smile. *hugs*

The grimoire said it was a spell to summon love into his life. Merlin had never expected it to work quite so literally. He _certainly_ hadn't expected the blond-haired, Greek god wannabe dripping soapy water all over his workshop floor. 

“What the bloody hell!” yelled the new arrival, quickly moving to cover his bits (rather nice ones, Merlin noticed) with his hands. He frowned as he looked around the room—which _was_ rather a mess at the moment. Potions ingredients were scattered over the table, books lay everywhere (they'd revolted one day and all marched right off the shelf), and there was a rather messy spot where Merlin had dropped a glass vial filled with a tarry black sludge and not bothered to clean it up. Amidst the shattered glass, white and green fuzz grew all over the crusty goo. Merlin grimaced. Maybe leaving it in favour of finishing the love spell hadn't been his smartest moment. 

Archimedes squawked in surprise from his perch on the window sill and hacked up a pellet. While the new arrival stared at the owl in fascination and horror, Merlin noticed that the floor under his (perfectly sculpted) bare feet was a scary mix of feathers and poop. Shit. 

Water continued to drip from the man's sopping hair and track along the line of his muscles. It was like a vision straight from one of Merlin's fantasies. Had the spell brought one of his daydreams to life? 

When the man spotted Merlin standing gormlessly with his jaw dropped to the floor, he yelled some more. “You're not Morgana!” Merlin still didn't move, frozen with shock. The man huffed. “Don't just stand there staring, you idiot! Get me a towel!”

Oh. Of course. The least he could do was show hospitality to his unexpected—though _technically_ not uninvited—guest. Definitely not a daydream: none of Merlin's fantasies would ever speak to him like that!

Still—Merlin maybe couldn't stop staring. “Now!” the man bellowed. His lungs were clearly as well-endowed as his—

The man growled, and Merlin ran for the bathroom. He scooped up every towel in sight—there were four—and rushed to throw them at the man. 

“Have you no decency?” the man snarled, and Merlin (with difficulty) averted his eyes. Then, finally, some of his common sense kicked in. 

“Clothes! I'll just… go find you some!” 

Merlin fled. Potential ramifications of what he had done sprang to mind. Gods, what if the man wanted to press charges for kidnapping? How was Merlin supposed to improve his love life if he were in prison? He had just moved back to Camelot after years abroad. Gods, it would be just like him to screw up this new opportunity so quickly. If only he had figured out how to make that good luck potion. Honestly, though, he would probably have to imbibe the completed mixture before he'd be able to figure out its recipe—and how would he manage any of that if he were locked up for the rest of his life?

After digging through his closet, Merlin found some clothing that might fit the new arrival. He returned to his workshop but didn't dare enter. Instead, he threw the outfit in and closed the door. Hopefully the man would think he'd learned common decency. In actuality, Merlin was just too nervous to face him. 

Archimedes hooted angrily at being shut in with the stranger, but Merlin didn't have the guts to rescue him. Besides, that owl was more than capable of protecting himself if necessary. 

What in the seven kingdoms had Merlin done? Wasn't that spell supposed to… you know… increase the likelihood that he would fall in love? Not steal the man of Merlin's dreams from the middle of a shower and utterly doom his chances of a happily ever after?

Merlin sank down to the carpet, hands wrapped around his knees, an anxious ball of wizard awaiting his fate. 

After a short time, Archimedes started screeching furiously. He flapped his wings so violently that Merlin could hear them through the walls. The owl’s racket was quickly joined by human cursing. 

The door to the workshop opened, and the man burst out. “Stop it, you bloody bird! Or I'll have you plucked and all your feathers made into quills!” He slammed the door behind him. There was a scratch across his cheek, and the shirt Merlin had loaned him (a Griffinland shirt he'd picked up in Crete) had a large rip in the shoulder. Damn it. He had liked that shirt. 

“I think that creature was not pleased that I had the audacity to wear your clothing.” 

Or, if that owl was anything like Merlin (and familiars often did resemble their wizards), he just hadn't appreciated losing the nice view. 

Seeing the man dressed in Merlin's clothing was still satisfying, though. _Mine_ , a voice whispered in his head. This might be the last Merlin ever saw of him—unless he was brought to trial for attempted kidnapping—and he would cherish the idea that Mr Greek God had once been in Merlin's clothes. They were a little too small and pulled tight against his muscles and— Well, let's just say they left very little to the imagination. Merlin gulped. 

The man opened his (rather luscious) mouth to speak. This was it, the moment he would doom Merlin to a lifetime of misery. But instead of announcing his intention to call the police, the man asked, “How did you do that?” He stared down at Merlin, hands on hips. 

“Do what?” Merlin asked, confused. 

“Summon me, you idiot. That's powerful magic. My sister's been trying for ages with very little success, and she's the most powerful witch in the city. And you did it without us even knowing each other. Morgana swore up and down that it was only possible to summon known people from known locations. So I'll ask again: How did you do that?”

“Aren't— Aren't you going to call the police?” Merlin stammered. 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because… Because I kidnapped you? You could have me sent to prison.”

The man laughed. “Honestly…” he paused meaningfully. 

“Merlin. My name is Merlin.”

“Arthur,” he said before continuing. “Honestly, _Mer_ lin, you don't seem like the sort of person capable of big, nefarious kidnapping plots. It seems much more likely that you are a bumbling, incompetent fool. So, tell me: what the hell did you do?”

Merlin felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment even as his muscles relaxed with relief. 

“I… triedanewlovespell.” He rushed through the phrase as fast as possible, hoping Arthur wouldn't question it. Gods, this was mortifying. 

Arthur's brow wrinkled as he pieced together what Merlin had said. “You… tried a love spell? But—what does that have to do with me?”

Merlin blushed to the roots of his hair. Could this get any more uncomfortable? 

Understanding dawned on Arthur's face. “Ohhhh, don't tell me. Your ‘magic’”—he snorted, and Merlin could hear the air quotes around the word—”thinks I'm the one for you? Ahahaha! Hahahaha!” And he keeled over, laughing hysterically. 

All right then. It _could_ get more uncomfortable. 

“You don't have to be such a dollophead about it,” Merlin said, pouting. “I'm sorry I interrupted your shower. You can just—go home, and we can forget this ever happened.”

Arthur gave Merlin a _look_. There were raised eyebrows and everything. Uncle Gaius would have been proud. 

“That sounds like an excellent idea, _Mer_ lin. How about you wave your magic wand”—and here Merlin blushed _even more_ —”or whatever it is you do, and send me back?”

Well, fiddlesticks. Send him back? How the hell was he supposed to do that? 

“You do know how to send me back, right?” 

“Errrr… I could drive you? I mean… I probably could. Unless you live over the sea, in which case I could maybe call a dragon…”

A look of understanding flashed on Arthur’s face, quickly followed by exasperated horror. He buried his face in his hands. “For the love of all the gods… Why did I have to be saddled with the most incompetent and idiotic soulmate of all time?”

Merlin jerked his head up to look straight at Arthur. “Wait, what? Soulmate?” 

Arthur groaned and sank down onto the carpet across the hall from Merlin. “Morgana always claimed that my soulmate would be the most powerful wizard of our time. Son of a dragonlord. Destined to stand by my side and create a glorious land for all. I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that she meant you.”

“Me?” Merlin squeaked, knowing he sounded even more like an idiot, repeating everything, but he couldn't help it. 

“Damn it, we'll have to move you into the palace, get you properly trained up, teach you how to dress correctly…” Arthur wrinkled his nose as he looked at Merlin's tattered “Save the Wyverns” tee. _Of course_ Merlin wasn't looking his best. He'd been hard at work mixing potions. It wasn't his fault that the acidic one had exploded. Okay, fine, so maybe it was. But he was perfectly willing to let acid eat through his clothes if it led to magical discovery. 

Arthur's words slowly percolated into Merlin's consciousness. “Palace?” he asked, the word heavy on his tongue. “You live in a palace?”

“Where else would you expect a prince to live?”

“Prince?” Merlin's brain felt like it was slogging through a field of mud. “Prince… Arthur? Of Camelot?” Oh gods, he had kidnapped a _prince_?

Arthur reached out and batted him gently across the top of his head. “I’m pretty confident we're still in Camelot, idiot. Did you really not recognise me?” 

No, Merlin had _not_ recognised him. He’d never had time to read gossip magazines or do anything so trivial as watch the news, always too busy tinkering in his workshop. And Merlin had spent most his childhood overseas, travelling with his parents through Dragonlords Without Borders. They would visit the various dragon colonies and mediate between the magical creatures and their respective governments. It was an important job. Without the occasional presence of a dragonlord, humans tended to get toasted and dragons skewered. (Guns wouldn't penetrate a dragon's scales, but a well-placed blade to the heart did wonders.)

Merlin had just recently returned to Camelot to live on his own for the first time, thinking it might be a calmer environment for magical study. He was second-guessing that decision already. 

“Well, we'd better get going. We're still in the city, yeah? I'll have to ring my driver and have him send a car for us.”

“For us? No! I need to work on my experimental good luck potion and do my laundry! I don't have time to go traipsing off—ow!”

Arthur stood and lifted Merlin by the scruff of his neck. Merlin flailed and protested, but there was no way to escape the prat without using magic. And he figured that kidnapping the heir to throne with magic was pressing his luck enough for one day. If only he had mastered that luck potion…

Merlin twisted around so that the two of them stood nose to nose, staring each other down in the hall. Archimedes’ hoots of irritation in the workroom were the only sound. 

Finally Arthur broke the standoff. “You are going to be _so_ much work,” he groaned. 

“And you are such a prat,” Merlin replied. But even as he said it, he noticed that Arthur's arm was still wrapped around Merlin's neck. Merlin really, really, _really_ didn't mind. 

“At least you're adorable, thank the gods.” 

Then Arthur leaned in and pressed his lips to Merlin's. An electric spark of desire pulsed through him, and he returned the kiss eagerly. 

Without warning, the door to the workshop popped open and the hallway was filled with a hurricane of swirling feathers and slashing claws. 

“Archimedes!” Merlin yelled. “That's enough!” The owl screeched rudely but flew off to the kitchen, undoubtedly to root through Merlin's rubbish bin and look for a snack. This was not allowed, but at the moment Merlin had more important things to worry about. 

“I don't think that bird likes me,” Arthur said, grinning. “I can assure you the feeling is mutual.”

“He's a very astute bird,” Merlin laughed. “Probably just sees you for the prat you are.”

Arthur batted playfully at Merlin's shoulder. “But I really do need to ring the palace before they declare a national emergency.”

Merlin pulled out his mobile from his jeans pocket and passed it to Arthur. “You're… not going to tell them I kidnapped you… right? It was an accident, I swear—”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he began dialling. “No, _Mer_ lin. It would be rather hard to marry you if you were hanging by your adorable ears in the dungeons for the rest of your life.”

There were several threats in that sentence, and it was hard to decide which was the scariest. “M-marry— Marry me? But I don't even know you!”

Merlin's heart was a strange mess, beating much too rapidly, half in excitement, half in terror. Arthur spoke into the mobile a moment before asking Merlin, “Where the hell am I?” Merlin supplied the address of his flat, which was only a few miles from the palace. 

After hanging up, Arthur pressed the mobile back into Merlin’s pocket. It was highly intimate, and the excitement running loose through Merlin's body fizzed up all over again. It made it difficult to concentrate on all the reasons why running off to marry a complete stranger—who also happened to be the gods-damned heir to the throne—was a terrible idea, dubious claims of soulmate status not withstanding. 

“I can't marry you!” Merlin blurted out. 

“Well, you certainly can't looking like that,” Arthur said amiably. “Like I said, you are going to be _so much work_.”

“But— But—” Merlin spluttered. “Hold on one pixie-loving minute. You can't just go around popping into unsuspecting people’s homes and making them marry you! Even if you are the prince! Which I've still seen no proof of, I might add.”

Arthur laughed. “I would like to remind you that it was _your_ love spell that got us into this mess. Well, that, and your abysmal housekeeping skills. And of course I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want. Though that demon bird of yours is never going to sleep in our bedroom, you understand?”

“But—”

Arthur smiled that crooked smile of his, and Merlin had the sudden urge to donate Archimedes to the zoo, familiar or not. 

“When you've known Morgana as long as I have, you'll learn that her visions are never wrong, whether I like them or not. You’ll see. Now if you'll excuse me, my ride is here.”

Arthur reached out his hand and touched his fingertips to Merlin's lips. Then he was out the door. “I'll send a car for you tomorrow,” he called as he left. 

The nerve! 

Archimedes fluttered back to perch on Merlin's shoulder, tomato sauce and bits of onion peel stuck to the feathers on his head. He dug his talons into Merlin's flesh with rather more force than was necessary and hooted mournfully. 

“I know, Arch, I know. He's a prat. At least he's gorgeous?”

The owl hooted, even more irate. 

“You're right, of course. But there's something about him…” Merlin rubbed his fingers along his lips where the prat had kissed him. It could be worse. He would give Arthur a chance… but first he was going to clean his house. If this whole destined soulmates thing didn't pan out, Merlin would be ready for the next time an unexpected (hopefully gorgeous and naked) visitor dropped in. And—gods willing—he'd have his good luck potion perfected by then.

**Author's Note:**

> The adorable art was done by [Eisbaerfussel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisbaerfussel). I love it, and she has bribed me with more art if there are sequels... (Archimedes in the palace? What could possibly go wrong??)
> 
> This is my contribution to the [Writer-Artist-Telephone (WAT) game](https://merlin-art-fest.livejournal.com/66977.html). You can see the rest of it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15303525). Thanks to [Gabby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViridianJane/pseuds/ViridianJane) for running it!
> 
> This story was inspired by Polo's adorable fic ["Get Sick Soon"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941164) about hapless, modern-wizard Merlin. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Just Happy Accidents](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16894134) by [MistbornHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistbornHero/pseuds/MistbornHero)




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